


Stuck in your Finder

by Ariard



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Crimes & Criminals, Dark, Kidnapping, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:13:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariard/pseuds/Ariard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takaba's debt to Asami is paid off fully when he bargains his son.</p><p>Under major revision: July 5th, 2015 | Being orphaned to user: Wakahisa_S</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wakahisa_S](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wakahisa_S/gifts).



> Story will be continued at account: Wakahisa_S   
> On AO3

Fifteen year old Takaba Akihito arrived late from work Saturday evening. Yamaka-san had really given him to many papers to file, and already he had three cuts on his fingers. They still stung from the hour before as he bunched his thin coat around his shoulders more. 

Earlier Takaba had stopped by the convenient store for tonight's dinner, chicken curry with rice, water chestnuts, onions, and ginger. But the young boy silently prayed that his father has paid the electricity bill on time this month. 

The paint was peeling terribly bad when Akihito arrived to the apartment complex, moving up the rickety stairs to the second floor. Although he knew his father tired hard, what with his parents divorcing and him; gambling, drinking, etc. The boy was still a bit ashamed of his home. It was located within the worse neighborhood notorious for drugs and frequent rape. And the buildings wear was slowing decomposing, already four planks had been ruined. 

He didn't blame his father though. After all, things could be much worse. 

Hand still gripped on the recyclable bags and the other on the frozen brass knob he walked into his freezing home. It was strange. The lights still weren't on and his fathers shoes were gone. 

“Dad?” He yelled into the dark. 

No reply. 

Takaba flicked the light switch, not too surprised when nothing happened. Knowing where everything is though, Akihito set the bags on the small counter top and went into the tight-sized pantry to retrieve the flashlight and box of matches. 

Akihito took out a big pot and filled a third of it with water, then turned on the gas and lit the match to start a flame on the stove. 

He chopped the chicken first and waited until the water started to boil to dump it in. Next were the onions and ginger. Once he added those ingredients he put three cups of rice into the pot and stirred everything together. Finally the curry paste and coconut milk were added last. He used two cups of the paste to make it thick and tasty. When he finished, Akihito took out three potatoes, washed them, and chopped the few into small pieces so they could cook faster, adding them to the pot. 

It would all be done in an hour or so, so the boy decided to work on his homework and took a battery powered timer out of a cupboard to keep track of the food. 

After thirty minutes, and even with his father still not home, Takaba put his done work in his bag for tomorrow and hand washes his linen, hanging it over patio to dry. 

Oddly, two hours passed and his father as still not home. He was supposed to be here awaiting his arrival by eight. It was already ten-thirty and a wave of worry washed over Akihito's face. He had school in the morning, besides, his dad was probably out drinking or gambling again. 

He'll never learn.

Takaba let out a frustrated sigh and rinsed his dishes in the sink, set out food for his father, and draped his coat over his head, falling asleep on the couch. 

~.~.~.~.~

Something really wasn't right. 

It's been a week now, and his father has yet to come home once or leave any sign of him being home. 

The boy was starting to get really scared now. What if he'd gotten into some serious trouble with his growing debt. Takaba knew it was at least six-hundred-thousand if not more, but his father said to not worry so much. 

That he had it under control. 

He confronted Yamaka-san while working. He'd told Aki no one had heard of his father for a while and he was welcomed to crash with him and hi wife for a while. The police officer didn't even look worried. Politely the young boy declined because just like when Kou and Takato had offered, none of them really meant it. Well, maybe Kou. 

But all this was besides the point.

If the man didn't come home today Akihito would most likely have to try and find another place to live. The due date for rent was slowly approaching, and he had only made half of the initial cost. 

“Argh! Screw this!” The teen yelled into the cold night on his way home. If his dad didn't come home then he would live on his own, for real. No more looking after his father, or taking his abuse any longer. He had the scars to prove it so. He loved his father with all his heart, no matter what that would never change, but he couldn't stand to be hurt much longer. 

He sneezed suddenly. Ah, right. He still has that fever. 

Relieved Takaba was when he made it home again safely. You never knew what could happen here. 

He entered the metal key into the lock and turned. The boy jolted violently when he say that the lights were on, it was warm, the apartment smelt good, and his curry was being reheated on the stove.   
He took off his shoes and scanned the room for his father. 

“Dad?” He yelled, disappointed when he didn't see him. 

“In the back!” Came a reply. Akihito sighed in relief and set his bag down to find his father. Looked like he wouldn't have to move out after all. 

“I was so worried that y - “ He was cut off as he entered the 'guest room' to see his father, head down facing a built man with golden eyes and an aura with made the boy shiver in fear. The atmosphere in the room stank of anxiety and power. Akihito looked to his father in concern, sitting beside him. 

“Dad?” He asked. That man raised his head a little but let it go again. 

The younger Takaba placed a comforting hand on his fathers back. 

“Hey,” He gently asked, lowering his head to look into his fathers eyes. Trying hard not to look at the man before him. “What's going on?” 

At those words, the older Takaba stiffen greatly and his hands tightened. 

“How old?”

Akihito looked towards the deep powerful voice of the man who was looking at him now with those golden eyes and the boy felt as if he were naked. He should've asked himself what the question meant. 

“Fifteen.” 

“Does he have experience?”

“No.” He father gulped.

They were talking about him. With his fathers head still down the teen lightly shook the older Takabas' shoulders.   
“Dad?” He asked, hoping his father wouldn't confirm his fears. 

His father finally looked up with sad eyes brimming with tears and grasped hold of his sons face. “I'm sorry. I'm so so so so sorry.” 

Akihito removed himself from his dads hold and backed up. 

“You leave me for a week, and come back to sell me off!?!” The boy yelled, tears threatening to fall also. “And what is it this time? One million, two? Or perhaps -” 

“Twelve million.” The man whispered. 

The tears did fall and he brought back his hand to connect it with the mans face. It was worth it to see the horror of written like ink to paper along his fathers facial expression. 

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU?” He shouted crying heavily. 

He ran towards the door, opening it wide and running out the front shoeless. 

Meanwhile, the frightening man the older Takaba owned the money to laid a piece of paper and a pen on the coffee table before him and slid it closer. 

“Once you sign here your son will become mine, and all of your debt will have been paid off.” 

Takaba nodded and shakily wrote his name in full on the paper. “Now leave.” He told them voice wavering.

Asami stood and signaled to one of his burly guards to followed the boy. “Kirishima prepare the car.” 

~.~.~.~.~

Akihito ran and ran through the blinding streets of Japan. His feet were aching and his head was pulsating like a drum, and his eyes were full of tears. Ahead of him all he could see was brightness, even within the night. 

The boy's lungs ached with the need of air.  
Akihito stopped in a nearby alleyway, bending over his knees and gasping for the required element. 

Why? Why would his father do that? He should have known. But why? Why at his own expense? The man was giving him away to a stranger, and for God knows how long! That man with a dark hair and golden eyes, with such a deep voice it was sultry, and built like a tower. 

The young boy shivered at the thought. 

What am I going to do now? Akihito had no money, no shoes, no shelter. He couldn't go back home, nor go to his friends house. He didn't want to be a bother. Akihito's mother had left the country a month ago too. Now he was alone. 

His back slid against the befouled brick wall and he slumped his shoulders hanging his head down low.   
Suddenly, two pairs of hands grabbed at him, one at the collar of his shirt, and the other gripped his arms, keeping them down. 

“Let me go!” Akihito thrashed around, trying to get loose. The hands pulled him forward and Akihito realized that struggling was only going to make situations worse.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -None-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story orphaned to user: Wakahisa_S   
> Type his name above and read it!

Both of the suited men placed him in the back of a black BMW, the sleek coating of the vehicle was so shiny he could he his worried expression in it. 

They tossed him in and he grunted at being thrown. “Hey!” He shouted at the retreating figure through the tinted glass hitting his hands against the window, while trying to unlock the door. It was of no use once more as he failed to escape. 

No way.

He had a life to live, he had goals, and plans. 

He shivered at the thought for what was in store for him. Reality had hit and sunk its next ship. The tears silently fell once more causing his body to shake with fear. 

“Don't cry.” 

A deep, sultry voice woke him from his ruined state and he quickly stopped sniveling, turning towards the man that 'bought' him. He was look his way, smoking a cigarette which was leaving a lingering sour smell. “Leave me the hell alone, I'm not crying.” He sniffled. Akihito pressed himself against the car door and curled up in a ball.  
“Where are we going?” He asked quietly. 

For moments on end, Asami didn't answer. Only continued to blankly stare at the boy who was now his prized possession. His and his alone. “Your new home.” 

Akihito clenched his fist tightly. “It's not my home, I refuse to go with you.” 

The older man didn't respond. The boy would succumb to him sooner or later. 

The car came to a halt at a big building towering so high he couldn't stand not to open his mouth in awe. Asami watched in fascination as his eyes lit up and chuckled faintly, low enough for only him for hear. He grabbed the boys arm leading him inside the building in which he the boy tried to run away again.

It was silent as Asami's grip tightened and represented a lease around his arm, jerking him aside, pulling him forcefully, not listening to his protest, as he was dragged to the top floor and to Asami's apartment and pushed into the penthouse. 

Takaba tripped over his own feet. Fear boiled deep in the bellows of his gut, yet his eyes continued to showed that glint of defiance which wickedly excited the older man. 

Asami locked the door behind him and pulled off his tie, followed by his jacket so that underneath Akihito could see his gun. 

He walked into the kitchen, beckoning Akihito to follow him as he watched the boys eyes travel towards the door. They sat down at the dining table together. 

“Imagine, if your father hadn't been shit deep in trouble, what kind of life would you have now?” 

Takaba kept silent and looked down at the table. He wouldn't answer no matter how much this guy pissed him the hell off, saying crap like he knows everything, buying people. Maybe when he feel asleep, Akihito would bash his head in...just maybe. 

Asami chuckled lightly and lit a cigarette, he sounded angered, the smoke was soon filling the atmosphere with a sour stench. 

“I've done you a favor, shouldn't you thank me?” 

“You BASTARD!” Takaba yelled and reached up to wipe the smugness off his face, giving in.  
Asami caught his hand and stood, dropping the cigarette from his mouth onto the table and grabbed the boy by his hair forcing his head back and throwing him onto the wooden floor. 

He fell with a harsh thud.

“Damn! What's your problem?” He exclaimed perched on the arm which broke part of his fall and scampered to the nearest wall. 

Asami's features were covered with a dark shadow as he picked his smoke up and sat down ignoring the boy. 

Akihito furrowed his brows and pouted. This wasn't fair at all. He wanted to go home, right now. If only he could make it to the door. 

The older man wasn't looking at him anymore. Just staring off into the distant space and he bolted to the entryway, slipping on the wooden floor twice as he jingled the knob. It was locked. 

Of course it was locked. He saw the man do it himself, but...from the inside. 

The first lock came undone easily. It was just the matter of turning it. The second lock however, didn't budge once. He wiped his hands over his pants, just in case his perspiring was the issue and tried again. Still nothing. 

The sound of a chair moving along the floor quickened his heart beat and he rammed his shoulder into the door. 

Nothing.

His body. 

Again, nothing. 

Loud, but slowly sickening footsteps alarmed him of the other mans presence. Panicking, Takaba kicked the door, hit the door, yelled for it to open. In the end, his body became sorer and his throat hurt. 

The house had another part to it. The hall leading that way was immensely dark and he worried about being found before hiding. Yet, he was willing to take a chance and hurried down the hall. 

Running his hands along the walls as he moved proved only to show there were no closets or hidden compartments in this god forsaken place. He damned the floorboards he was partially running down and stopped. He was in a vast area, making a room or resting place. Finding the nearest wall he ran his hands up and down every crease and curve, nook and cranny, line and hole. His fingers hit a door frame, leading to an actual door and then a knob. 

Akihito turned and stepped in quickly, locking the entry behind him. His back thumped against the wood as he slid down with his head between his knees and sighed. He was too old to cry. 

~.~.~.~.~

Eventually what soon dawned on him was the feeling of an empty home. Asami hadn't come to get him, maybe he'd overreacted. 

He slammed his fist onto the floorboards. 

Maybe not. 

That sadistic asshole was going to get whatever was coming to him. Unsure though, of his surroundings, the boy steadily stretched his limbs and stood, yawning. He reached over to the knob, turning it slowly and with unchallenged ease. 

The air outside of the room was cold and drafty. A thought passed him that Asami could still be around and he tip-toed to the dining room, grabbing a clay pot with African Violets in it. 

Creak! 

Creak! 

The boards would cause his heart to leap out of his chest. If the crazy yakuza guy was listening well enough, he would be able to counter attack when given the chance. 

Nearing the creamed colored corner of the hall, he quickly jumped forward into the open with the pot raised above his head. 

“Hiyah!” 

The pot came down but didn't crash as he soon realized there was no one to crash it on.  
Takaba swiftly turned to the living room, the viewing glass showed all of Shinjuku and its utmost glory. 

Still no freaky-deaky dude. 

He sighed in relief putting down the pot, not really wanting to hurt it, and slumped onto the kitchen countertop, relaxing. He stomach growled loudly, the anger and fear that was once in their pooling hot and deep now replaced with hunger. 

Jumping off the counter, the youth opened the fridge to see...absolutely nothing. 

“What the hell?” He whispered into the coolness vibrating off the machine. There were jugs of water, alcohol, and weird looking...fruits? But nothing to actually eat. 

Not giving up yet, he went searching through the cabinets to only find one box of rice crackers. He ate them anyway, and they were the best crackers yet. 

His tummy rumbled once more and he laid down on the sofa for relief. Now that he thought of it, he hasn't checked the entire place out yet. If he was going to escape he'd at least need to know the layout of his prison. 

~.~.~.~.~

Quite upset, the older man walked into Club Sion, flagged by his henchmen with a resentful aura swarming him. 

Yes, he was not in a pleasant mood. 

But the fact that someone would disobey him, even after witnessing the transaction of their life...well, the thrill of the hunt excited him. It made him constantly horny since those fierce eyes first pierced through his heart. 

Takaba would be his and soon. Maybe it was his ego that wanted to push him down like all the other filthy whores who got on their knees to please him, or the many twinks he's fucked into the cushions of his office sofa.  
No matter. As long as the boy kept it interesting he would play his part in it all too. 

He could just imagine his victory now. Those hazel eyes breaking through his surface, their body heat combining in the dark of the room, the dip in the bed as he moaned with increasing pleasure and silently begging for more.  
The older man could feel his hand pressed into the perspiring dip of Akihito's back, feel the shake of his body as he relieved the boy of his tension. 

Asami shivered lightly. He looked down to see his tented pants and palmed his crouch.  
The heat from his hand was comforting as he screwed his eyes shut. The pain of knowing he couldn't satisfy himself in the current moment caused his small bout of anger to rise more and more. 

Akihito sneezed twice.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -None-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:   
> It is VERY possible to climb in a vent, speaking from experience I am, I've climbed in a company ventilation system to retrieve someones phone, and my word it is very tight, smells awful, and is dark and very scary. Also, vents are way easier to open then a damn door (again, experience)...I'm going through hormones right now...forgive me everyone -__-   
> Check my FF.NET for more notes on -Chapter Three-:  
> http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9613849/3/Stuck-in-your-Finder

The amber everglow of the city, touched faintly with the darkness of the buildings put Akihito into a sense of relief as he placed his head on his knee and relaxed. 

This view was astonishing, something he couldn't even see from his school's rooftop. It stretched all along Shinjuku's back, a small sense of pride shivered up his spine and down. 

Takaba pressed his palms against the glass and his body released a chemical warning him of how high he was but, it didn't faze the boy. 

~.~.~.~.~

Asami threw the papers onto his desk and leaned back. There was a knock at his office door followed by Kirishima with a pack of Dunhills. He left them near the papers and retreated back to his post. 

The older man lit a cigarette a took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly into the room. The smoke whirled around him as he turned to look at the office view. The building sides were illuminated by the city lights. This world was his canvas to paint in the colors he so chose. 

He needed materials first. A supplier who provided those materials. 

Takaba Akihito. 

He would be his brush, his paint, a variety of colors to choose from. He'd paint the world with him, a brilliant array of shades and blending. His ultimate goal was to make his new toy succumb to him first, but with such feisty being he'd need a plan. 

The last of his cigarette turned to ash and he grabbed the files on his desk and flipped through the reports with lucid reflexes. 

Each page had a blue graph or green graph on it, courtesy of Kirishima, with the current trade rates. He looked at the second to last page briefly and called Kirishima in. 

“What's this?” The subordinate peered over at the graph, he knew what was coming once he drew those numbers up. “The monthly exchange rate with the Tokugawa sir. In detail, it's the average amount of income per unit of merchandise.” 

The yakuza picked up his desk phone and dialed a number, turning back in his chair to face the office view. “That's all.” 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring.

“Tokugawa Iwase.” A gruff voice answered. Asami could tell the old man had been smoking. It didn't suit him. “Tokugawa-san, this is Asami Ryuichi calling about your latest product. According to my numbers it seems your guaranteed merchandise hasn't made any profit. Care to explain?” 

Tokugawa took in a deep breath and sat down as his belly moved with him. He could already feel his pits releasing a stench and the fear in his gut eroding his internal organs. 

“Asami-san! What a pleasant surprise, I was just thinking about calling you.” He coughed into his fist shoving the phone away from himself. Damn cigarettes. “Now, I don't know what you're talking about. My secretary Haruka showed me all the graphs and rates yesterday. And that buttercup don't lie sir.” 

A small moment of silence as Iwase fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “Are you insinuating I've lied to you perhaps?” This was absolutely stupid, he would give him five minutes to confess the truth instead of trying to play it off. One thing for sure was that Asami did not take the matter of money lightly. 

“No sir, I'm simply stating you might have read it incorrectly or backwards or-” 

“Or listen here you filthy slob, I don't give a damn whether or not you're screwing your secretary or trying to screw me but I've spent,” He peered at his Rolex. “ten minutes dealing with your demeaning self. You've already lost me three months worth of investment put into you.” 

He poured himself some whiskey and turned back to the window. 

“You owe me twenty-seven million. Tokugawa, you have until Thursday to return the money or I might become violent. Have we reached an agreement?” 

Iwase was panting harder with a hand raking through what hair he had left. “B-but! Asami-san, I don't have any of tha-” 

Asami hung up and let out a small wind of air. Kirishima came back in on instinct with hopefully better news and stood for orders. “Tokugawa Iwase has until Thursday, midnight, to return an exact amount of twenty-seven million, a minute more then I would like you to take him and his family to the Shinkawa warehouse and await my instructions.” The guard nodded and bowed, “Yes Asami-sama.” and quietly left. 

Business was building by the day, did the name Asami Ryuichi not cause fear and worry within a man mind and soul? Did people not coward to avoid his view?

It was going to be a challenge reafirming his reputation once more. 

~.~.~.~.~ 

Akihito paced back and forth in front of the vast view. He couldn't help but chomp at his nails as he was nervous and sick and tired of being there. 

He'd checked the door again, pulling, pushed, and occasionally trying to bite off the handle. The youth had taken a clay decorative pot and connected to the door, which is most likely made out of some sort of super wood. 

A wave of hopelessness crashed over him. He wasn't going to get out anytime soon. 

Takaba sighed and sat against the cream colored wall facing east. He closed his eyes and listened to the room. The small creaks from worn parts or other people in the building, the electric buzzing and the hum of the air ventilation system. 

He cracked an eye open. 

Ventilation system? 

He crawled to the other side of the living room and peered behind the couch. There it was, a fairly small vent covered in bits of dust loosely hanging onto the hinges as the air blew threw. 

He moved the leather couch to the side and crouched low beside the hole in the wall. He placed his feet on the grate and pushed himself back as to estimate whether or not his body would fit through. Finally it seemed as though he could if he keep his arms up front and his shoulders small. 

After examining it once more he pulled at the opening but if wouldn't come off. The corners were being held down my tiny screws. “Argh!” He yelled frustrated. Nothing was going his way! 

Again he sat for a few moments behind the couch and thought. What was small enough to fit through and wouldn't break also? 

Akihito stood up and raced towards the kitchen. He rummaged through the drawers looking for a small knife, fork or even a potato peeler. He found a small knife stacked beneath the perfect rows of silverware and headed back towards the escape site. 

The tip of the blade went in as he licked his lips, steadily watching the screw move slowly and the sweat forming on his brow. 

He finished two within ten minutes, his heart was racing at the thought of that man coming back soon. He needed to move quicker. “Three down,” He said placing the screws in his pocket to hide any evidence. “One more to go.” 

The last screw came off with less finesse like the others but it flew away somewhere else and he have time to find it. 

The youngster used the knife to pull the grate off and coughed at the bit of dust. He crouched down, back arched, butt in the air and looked into the vent. It was lightly illuminated and the metal was a bit warm but more on the cold side. 

He held his breath putting the collar of his shirt over his nose and crawling in arms first, his feet latched onto the bottom of the couch and he bit his lip pulling it towards the wall, sighing in relief once he heard it bump against the wall, the vent light slightly dimmed. 

He began his journey heading north down the vent, using the rubber of his shoes as stoppers and place holders.


End file.
